#^lyrics from 'loaded' by hole

[astarionappreciator]

slut me open and suck my scars

[fanaticsnail]

Is this a bullet, Captain?

Hey Doc Masterlist here

Word Count: 840+

Synopsis: Your captain ventures below deck to your office with a grimace on his face and a slight hobble in his step. You wait patiently for him to explain himself, and hope he has learnt a lesson from this experience.

Warnings: surgical talk, mention of a gun, exhausted Doctor, grumpy captain. gn!reader x platonic!Kid, suggestive talk, swearing.

Notes: Thank you to @feral-artistry for sending another video for inspiration for this little character exchange. I love these so much.

Tag List: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @sinning-23

“Hey, Doc?” the booming voice of your captain calls to you from the other side of the door. There is a small quiver in his tone, and an almost desperate twitch in his cadence, “Need ya’, Open up.” 

From your reclined position on the bed enjoying a few moments peace and listening to the music coming from the transponder snail beside you. The lyrics come to a screeching halt as you switch the small device off and walk your way to the door. 

Truthfully, you were shocked it took him this long to make it to your office after the commotion you heard above deck. The large explosive sound, followed by the string of barked explicit dialogue immediately thereafter, had you relaxing yourself and awaiting your captain to sheepishly enter your office. 

As you open the door, you ask him monotonously without an air of humor or teasing in your tone.

“Anything to do with: ‘Oh fuck, oh fuck. It’s in my ass, it’s right in the meat of my ass’, by any chance, Captain?” You usher him inside, watching him hobble over to your surgical table. He passes you with a grumbling grimace and nodding his admission to you. 

Huffing out a soft sigh, you motion him over to the bet and ask him to drop his pants with a small gesture to his belt with your index finger. He growls, using his right hand to loosen his belt and hook his waistband over his hip, scurrying out of his patterned pants. 

“Lay face-down on the bench and tell me what happened,” you order him softly, shaking your head at him as he pouts and huffs his disdain for taking your orders, “What’s in ‘the meat of your ass’?” You place latex gloves over your hands and snap them at the wrists. 

Giving him a once over, you notice there is a fair amount of bleeding and an angry looking indent in his left ass-cheek. Placing your hand on his lower back between the dimples, you reach down and gingerly touch the marking before you huff out your disbelief.

“Is this a bullet, Captain?” you ask him, moving over to the side and readying your surgical pliers and placing it in your hands, “It still in there?”

Kid offers you a soft, mumbled conformational hum in response, burying his forehead in his right forearm to hide his flushing embarrassment over his face. You shake your head at him, applying a numbing cream to the circular hole and beginning to dig around in the entrance wound. 

“And what did we learn?” you ask him in a soft, reflectional tone with a slight tinge of condescension. He growled at you, bringing his furrowed brows and pouting lips away from his forearm and scowling at you. 

“Learnt not to place a marine’s fucking pistol in the back of my pants after disarming them,” he spat before offering you a soft smirk, “At least without checking to see if the thing is loaded.” You shook your head at your captain, huffing out a sigh of absolute exasperation. 

After fishing out the bullet, you placed it down onto the surgical tray with a soft ‘clink’ and began stitching up the hole. Kid hissed through the pain, his grimace morphing into a pout once you informed him you stitched up the incision. 

“All done, Cap,” you inform him, prompting him to look up over his forearm at you with gratuity. He glances over his shoulder and sneers at the exposed stitches. 

“What the fuck you call this?” Kid’s barked breath called over at you as you took off your latex gloves and discarded them. You furrow your brows and look over at him, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Five stitches in your left ass-cheek,” you nod to him, cocking your head to the side and glaring at him. He deepened his frown, looking over his shoulder and back at you again. He growls out at you, pouting like a petulant child. 

“Yeah, I see that, Doc,” he mocks you before sheepishly grasping the back of his neck with a small smile, “I just wanna know where my fuckin’ cool punk-band aid is, is all.” You roll your eyes at him, stalking over to your draw and growling under your breath.

“You’re a pain in my ass,” you huff, fishing out the box of patterned band aids with Kid’s Jolly Roger printed on the exterior. You turn to glare at him over your shoulder, watching as his lips curl into a smirk.

“No, this is a pain in the ass,” Kid gestures to the incision with his giant metal arm, “Now gimme my punk-band aid.” He laid back onto the surgical table and waited to be granted the prize he so desperately sought. 

“Fine,” you relent, unfolding the packaging and reaching down to plaster it over the stitches, “Happy now, Captain?” you scoff, looking down at the red and black pattern over his ass cheek. 

He took one look at it and released a breathy snort through his nose with his laughter. 

“Ecstatic, Doc.” 

[queenie-ofthe-void]

A Desperate Fool - Part 5

Part 4

Last Time: Nancy had an unexpected guest while filling Eddie in on everything he's missed over the past year. Now: Nancy finally tells him what's going on with Steve

~~~

Nancy starts the story at the beginning of the end. 

Robin, Max, and Lucas flew out to LA and spent the last three days of Eddie’s ten day bender loading up boxes, carving Steve out of his life. After severing her lease, Robin and Steve moved into a small apartment in Chicago, only a train ride away from Dustin– which worked out when Steve struggled to leave the house for the first two months. All of the arcade and game store money Steve spent on the kids over the years was paid back in full to help cover the rent.

Eddie remembers the moment he opened their front door to a hollowed-out home. No toothbrush by the sink. No gold, wire-framed glasses on the nightstand. Just Steve’s matching guitar pick necklace next to two silver house keys, and a note which said ”don’t call” in Robin’s looped handwriting.

The first few months after Steve moved out are just a whirlwind in his memory. Countless parties and late nights and warm beds buried his grief, keeping it at bay, at least for a while.

Then Corroded Coffin’s new album Love Me. Hate Me. Fuck Me. Free Me. dropped. Eddie's lyrics filled to the brim with seething disdain, heavy with angst. The album found its target audience faster than anyone had expected, launching Corroded Coffin from an opener to a headliner in only a few months. 

The collective internet started raiding his past like the trash heap it was, and that’s when the interviews started. He was forced to defend his sexuality, his adoption, his shitty parents. Answering questions at the whims of anyone with internet access. Eddie held the rage like a lifeline, letting it fuel his shows and lace his words. 

He'd started showing up high to interviews. Even though he’s six months sober now, he’s never gone back and watched them, too afraid of what he’d find. He knows questions about his exes came up a few times. He can't remember what his answers were. Probably doesn't want to, with how his younger fans reacted. 

That doesn’t stop Nancy and she doesn’t sugar coat it for him. She tells him paparazzi and angry fans camped outside Steve's apartment building for weeks after Eddie mentioned Steve's full name in a drunken livestream. They were served an eviction notice a week after a fan threw a milkshake at Robin as she tried to open the front door. Steve was able to pull her inside, but his appearance only incensed the crowd into vandalizing their building. Apparently people didn’t take kindly to the idea of Steve dating a woman, proof that he only used Eddie as some sort of queer experiment. Like they hadn’t been together for almost eight years. 

Moving out required coordination and a decoy moving van, like something out of a goddamn heist movie. According to Nancy, that’s exactly what it was. They packed up their things for the second time, and were out within twenty-four hours. The kids snuck the two through the back in the dead of night, with Nancy dressed as Robin and Jonathan as Steve leaving out the front to distract the crowd. 

Looking back, he can’t believe how naive he’d been to think there’d be no real-world consequences. Eddie used the album as an opportunity to purge himself of overwhelming emotion and pour them into the music, like he always did. He indulged in the recurring fantasy of Steve holed up in his bedroom, brooding and crying while listening to Eddie’s songs over and over again. But he never thought for a second he’d be putting Steve in actual danger, let alone Robin or anyone else.

Nancy says that’s when they moved into her and Jonathan’s guest bedroom for two months. It was awkward at best, and difficult at worst. Steve would walk in on Nancy and Jonathan in the middle of a conversation about Eddie, or catch them watching interview clips. No matter how hard she tried to hide it, Steve seemed to see right through her. 

“Eddie,” Nancy sighs, wiping a stray tear from her eye, “I don’t think you understand how hard it was on everyone, not just Steve. You didn’t seem to care what we had to say, and when you called, you’d never ask about us. You only ever talked about yourself. All we heard about was Metal Munson, then had to watch Steve struggle with it all. It just– we didn’t know what to do.”

It took him longer than it should have to notice, since he didn’t call often. He was too relieved to care about the lack of messages or missed calls, sick of everyone constantly begging him to slow down. They’d see him online at some party or another, dancing next to some boy he’d never remember or drinking bottles on top of bars. Every new viral video brought a wave of concerned phone calls from Nancy and his friends. So really, it’s no surprise at all that he didn’t notice the change right away.

Because if Nancy’s timing is right, the month Steve and Robin moved in was when his family started blocking all contact with him.

~~~

ao3 (Homesick)

Alright turns out I'm terrible with exposition so this chapter is taking me FOREVER! I'm relatively happy with this part though so I'm ready to share. So I'm breaking it into bite sized pieces

Ooooo ALSO I started uploading all of A Desperate Fool to ao3 under the series Homesick. I'm going for full chapter updates on ao3 and little snippet updates here, so Tumblr might be just slightly ahead (never far though). Not sure what the rules are for marking the fic Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson when they never interact, and Steve isn't even there, even though that's what the whole fic is about. Idk I tried to make it clear!

I've talked about how the first chapter with Robin was supposed to be a one-off. But the overall concept was born from the song If It Means A Lot To You by A Day To Remember. That song is gut wrenching, so hopefully my fic is too!

Part 6

Tag List!!!

@sadisticaltarts @5ammi90 @blacklegsanji21

[quickiesgirl]

I wanted to send you another request cause the last one you did was so good!

Plus size! Reader x Perv! Eddie

It’s laundry day, While doing you and your best friends laundry you are jamming to Holy Diver rocking out in nothing but a bra and panties. Eddie walks into the laundry room and catches you diving into the washer and he can’t help himself.

Thank you for sending another request and being patient with me these past few months. You are such a sweetheart. I’ve been on hiatus and haven’t written in a while, so forgive me if it’s not that great.

Laundry Day - Eddie Munson

Paring: Perv!Eddie Munson x Fem!Plus Size!Reader

Warning: 18+, Smut, Mild Drug Use, Dom/Sub, Perv!Eddie, Vaginal Sex, Unprotected Sex, Praise Kink, Pet Names, Friends to Lovers, Reader and Eddie Are Very Horny For Each Other.

Your hips sway back and forth in your favorite high-waist panties, dancing to Dio's "Holy Diver" as it played from the next room. You take a hit off the lit cannabis cigarette hanging loosely between your lips before setting it aside on the ashtray and stepping into the laundry room. 

It was finally laundry day, and after a long, stressful week, all you needed was a good joint and some of your favorite rock albums to give you the motivation to get some chores completed around the apartment. 

The sweet sound of your voice singing along to the lyrics caught your roommate’s attention as he made his way over, finding you in such a vulnerable position.

You pressed against the large washing machine and bent over with that pretty ass on full display, only wearing your undergarments while your other clothes were in the wash. 

“Need any help?” Eddie asked in a low and husky tone as all the blood in his body rushed straight to the head of his cock. He couldn’t help himself, admiring every inch of your body, especially the outline of your sweet pussy through the thin material of your panties, taking a mental picture of the sight for later. 

You wedge your bottom lip between your teeth and extend your arm out, standing on the tips of your toes, diving to reach the last bit of clothing stuck at the bottom.

You feel those hungry eyes burning holes into the back of you, giving you the courage to teasingly wiggle your ass. 

“Nope, all good, Eddie-pie.” You hum innocently, feeling an arm suddenly snake around your stomach, and close the space between you with his warmth. 

A shiver expels through your body from his touch as your roommate holds you from behind, hands smooth with calloused fingertips against your skin, his thumb grazing back and forth just above your belly button. 

The weed had decided to affect you in other ways, making your cunt starved and achy like never before. It was more difficult to keep yourself together while his hands were on your body.

Those cute, cotton panties were the only thing keeping the mess of arousal from leaking down your inner thighs. 

“You sure about that, sweetheart?” 

Fuck, you loved when he calls you that. 

“Mhmm, I’m okay.” You hum lightly, attempting to focus on the clothes you were pulling out and tossing into the front-load dryer instead of those hands now caressing your lower hips. 

Your mouth lowers, letting out a small gasp from the feel of your clitoris pulsating between your neglected pussy lips, earning a smirk across his face, knowing how badly you wanted it. 

“Seems like you could use a break,” Eddie spoke with a heavy tone, paying attention to how you gulped as he inched closer, “and I’ll help with anything you desire, any needs that must be met... I’m here, baby.” 

You breathily whimper from his words filling your ears. He was familiar with those sounds of pleasure, especially on the nights when he’d listen to you behind these paper-thin walls, stroking his sensitive cock, wishing he was there to help you. 

“You like that, hm, pretty girl?” He coos, listening to soft, incoherent mumbles escape your mouth. “Use your words, baby.” 

“T-touch me, Eddie.” You begged pathetically, ass backing into his crotch, making him chuckle deviously, witnessing a sight he’s yearned for years. He was a perv, and every chance he got, he was picturing you in every situation, all positions. 

Especially how he wanted to fuck you from behind with that pretty ass sticking out. Hands holding your love handles and forcing you back on his length till you are practically raw. 

Seducing his best friend might have been wrong, but you both knew these feelings and deep longing desires needed to be addressed sometime soon. Hell, everyone believes you’ve been secretly fucking anyway. 

Eddie peels your soaked panties aside with his ring finger and glides two digits through your sticky, swollen folds. The tips of his fingers slid down with ease, reaching your practically dripping entrance. 

You moan softly as his fingers, covered in arousal, follow up and brush gently against your fluttering bud. His warm breath fans the back of your neck and applies gentle kisses, watching you melt back into his body from the sensitivity. Powerful, yet so pleasing. 

“Mind if I take this off?” He questioned after a few seconds, pushing a finger between the thick lace of your bra and subtle skin as you gave a consenting nod. The clips suddenly unhook, and the straps slide down your arms. 

Your tits spill out of the restraining cups and into his hands, taking time to admire the feel of your beautiful breasts. His cock begins to twitch in his tight jeans, listening to you let out a needy moan while your body melts like putty in the palm of his hands. 

And before you knew it, your underwear was peeled away, completely exposing yourself to your best friend, Eddie Munson, something you secretly yearned to do throughout this entire friendship. 

“Sure you want this, baby?” 

You glanced back, gaze latching onto his with wide and intimate eyes, desperation in your voice.  “I w-want you, Ed’s. I wanna feel you- f-fuck me from behind~”  Those words were so fucking sexy as they left your mouth. 

Eddie’s grip released from you, beginning to undo his worn-out belt. You impatiently squeeze your thighs together and apply some pressure on your swollen clit.

Mind racing with the image of your roommate as he pushes his jeans and boxers halfway down his thighs, and the sound of his heavy erection slapping him in the stomach rings through the room. 

He wraps an eager hand around the base of his dick and glides it between your puffy folds, feeling your warm arousal cling to his throbbing member, used as the perfect lube. 

You swallow thickly, feeling his cock, thick and lengthy. It only made you needier, unable to control your hips while you back further against it, feeling a light slap be given to your greedy cunt with his cock before the girthy, mushroom-tip lines to your wet cunt. 

 “Look back at me, baby… I wanna see your pretty face as I slide inside this perfect pussy.”  

You listen to the instructions and look over your shoulder, gazing directly into those intoxicating eyes while he pushes through your entrance. “Ooh, fuck.”

Your mouth lowers into a drawn-out sigh, eyes broadening with complete lust. The sight could’ve made the man cum right then and there. 

Your brows knit together, and your back arches into the cold, metal appliance, feeling your stretching cunt flutter with every inch. Sparking an intense fire in your stomach. Eddie pulled out and gently thrust forward, moving with the pace of the music as his cock massages your inner walls, watching how you react, searching for any signs of pain or discomfort, though your body showed complete pleasure. 

“Holy shit, you’re so, so wet and tight. You f-feel incredible, baby, just like I imagined.” 

His hands squeeze the softness of your waist and hips. Balls swinging with every deep stroke, slapping your swollen clit. His leaking tip strikes your a-spot, sending an intense rush of ecstasy to shoot through your body, pushing you closer to the edge as his pace becomes more relentless. You can barely come up with words of your own, only whimpers and whines. 

His pervy gaze took an interest in your ass that jiggled against his thighs and how his cock glistened with your sweet arousal, working in and out of your tight hole. 

Loud, pornographic moans and slapping skin filled the little laundry room as the music outside completely faded out for you, too focused on your best friend of more than five years fucking you into the washing machine. 

Your hands clutched the appliance, attempting to steady your shaking legs beneath you while your orgasm crept closer and closer, and the coil tightened in your stomach. 

 “Mhmm~ eddie!.. Please-please don’t stop. I’m g-gonna cum!” 

“That's it, baby… Come for me, cum all over my thick cock,” Eddie says, his strumming hand snakes forward, down past your mound, and uses his finger pads to rub away at your neglected clitoris. His hips continued to thrust faster than before. He would’ve made you go longer, but he didn’t think he could wait with the hot cum raising up the crown of his cock. 

Your head became a haze, lost in the sensation of your orgasm that washed over you, eyes rolling to the back of your head and your inner walls clenching and spasming while milky cum gushes across his thickness. 

“hmm yeah, that’s it, sweetheart. Such’a good fucking girl,” Eddie speaks between low growls, losing self-control as he fucks you through your orgasm before pulling out, barely pumping his twitching member till strings of his ropey cum shoots out across your lower back and drips down your ass. 

His head slumps into your shoulder, and his arms slide around you. An adoring smile spreads across your dazed face, feeling lazy kisses applied to your inner neck, sweet nothings whispered into your ear as his semi-hard dick buries between the warmth of your ass cheeks. 

Eddie reaches over to grab the clean, folded towel off the top of the dryer and wipes away his little mess before clenching the fabric material in his fist and tossing it aside into the laundry basket. 

“Thanks…” You turn on the tips of your toes, knees still a little unsteady, and watch him slip his tattered jeans back up, looking upon the naked woman standing before him, immediately attaching his hands to the sides of your hips, tugging at you closer. 

You nibble lustfully on your bottom lip and glance between his captivating eyes and soft-looking lips. Your hands raise beneath his signature Hellfire shirt, and your fingers begin tracing small, delicate circles against his subtle skin. “So, what do we do from here?” 

“I say… We go cuddle on the couch and start planning some date ideas. See where the night takes us?” Your roommate suggests shyly. He really wanted to take you out. It doesn't matter what you had planned or where, as long as he was with you, he was a happy man. 

“I’d love that, Ed’s.” You mutter softly, placing a single finger on the bottom of his chin and moving in closely, “But, we have to wait til the clothes are dried, or we’ll have nothing to wear.” 

The man smirks mischievously, his ogling eyes flickering over your beautiful body and tongue darting over his bottom lip sensually. “Think I’d prefer it that way.” 

You gasp and give a gentle slap to his chest, trying to hide the flustered smile across your face as a devilish chuckle expelled from his throat.  

“You're such a perv... ” You tease, squeezing the collar of his shirt and finally colliding his mouth with yours while you push the two of you of out the laundry room. 

-

Eddie Munson Smut Taglist: @sunflowerharrington @nevermore-munson @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @rottenstyx @cantthinkofauserlololol @natashamacimoff69 @zestychilli @luna-munson83 @chaoticcancer @ruinedbythehobbit

Taglist Form | Message if you want to be removed <3

[blackangelism]

Dear Nobody’s Daughter, to Live Through This, you scrape off your Celebrity Skin; you know full well that you’re Pretty On The Inside...

HOW TO GET INTO HOLE?

• Angel Dust guides: I.

Aimed at @elexnorislingtxn and whomever wants to get into Hole...

HOLE is an American nineties’s kinderwhore band with a turbulent line-up and pure chaotic gold for music yet overshadowed by the controversial image of the lead singer and frontwoman of the band, Courtney Love. A staple in the grunge scene, the critically acclaimed sophomore record Live Through This of 1994 marked a peak in Hole’s career although the band was gaining audience for their 1991 debut: Pretty On The Inside. Celebrity Skin, the 1998 album, proved Hole’s peak which was rightly concluded by 2010’s Nobody’s Daughter thus finishing the legacy of Hole.

...In my very humble opinion, Courtney Love is a cunt. And, I love her music.

DO TRY Hole if you are into: Jack Off Jill, Bratmobile, Nirvana, Babes In Toyland, L7, Veruca Salt, Mommy Long Legs, Bikini Kill, Lunachicks, et cetera. Or, if you’d like to try something dolly and chaotic with an edge of feminism and aggression. I promise, listening to Hole makes you feel like a doll.

DO NOT TRY Hole if you’re a filthy misogynist who can’t stand the fact that the wife of a popular artist does in fact make good music on her own.

Yes, Courtney Love is a cunt, but she makes good music. Seperate the artist from the art.

If you’re still present here, welcome! Now, moving onto the actual guide...

FIRSTLY, I think to decode this, we’d have to learn about the albums individually. Of course, I’m going to leave my recommendation for listening, but to best suit yourself, you can find your own way around with the descriptions I give for each of these albums...

“ PRETTY ON THE INSIDE ”

Slut-kiss girl... PRETTY ON THE INSIDE of 1991 is about beauty, which is the life as a sex-worker about Courtney Love’s time as a sex-worker. It includes Courtney Love on vocals and rhythm guitar, Eric Erlandson on lead guitar, Jill Emery on bass, Caroline Rue on drums, produced by Kim Gordon of Sonic Youth and Don Fleming of Gumball.

tracklist. TEENAGE WHORE, BABYDOLL, GARBADGE MAN, SASSY, GOOD SISTER—BAD SISTER, MRS. JONES, BERRY, LOADED, STARBELLY, PRETTY ON THE INSIDE, CLOUDS.

IF YOU WANT... angry, chaotic, messy and sloppily mixed music that is very heady and makes you feel like a doll, listen to this album first.

Blending elements of punk rock, the album features distorted and alternating guitar compositions, screaming vocals from Love, and “sloppy punk ethics”, a style which the band would later distance themselves from, opting for a less abrasive sound on subsequent releases. Love’s lyrics on the album are often presented in an abstract narrative form, and describe disparate scenes of graphic violence, death, and female sexuality. The record was dedicated to Rob Ritter of the Los Angeles punk rock acts the Bags and The Gun Club. [< source, wikipedia.

If you want a more refined yet more depressed version of this album, migrate to Live Through This after; if you want a more refined and self-assured, slightly sarcastic but honest record after this listen, go to Celebrity Skin.

FUN FACT: the song BABYDOLL is allegedly inspired by Madonna.

“ LIVE THROUGH THIS ”

Miss Worlds... LIVE THROUGH THIS of 1994 is about the changes that come with marriage and motherhood, themes mainly being motherhood, body image, depression, child abuse and elitism. It includes Courtney Love on vocals and rhythm guitar, Eric Erlandson on lead guitar, Kristen Pfaff on bass, Patty Schemel on drums, produced by Paul Q. Kolderie and Sean Slade.

tracklist. VIOLET, MISS WORLD, PLUMP, ASKING FOR IT, JENNIFER’S BODY, DOLL PARTS, CREDIT IN A STRAIGHT WORLD, SOFTER, SOFTEST, SHE WALKS ON ME, I THINK THAT I WOULD DIE, GUTLESS, ROCK STAR.

IF YOU WANT... a tragic and softly edgy listen with a harsh sensibility and pure womanly depression scrawled all over, listen to this album first.

Live Through This marked a departure from the band’s noise rock roots toward a more alternative rock format. Love had sought a more mellow sound for Live Through This. The resulting music was starkly less aggressive than the band's former work, blending more structured melodies and smoother arrangements with heavy guitar riffs. Consequently, this featured a mixture of songwriting techniques, including use of power chords as well as arpeggios, and occasional use of keyboards. [< source, wikipedia.

If you want a tougher, rawer, more journal-entry music than this, migrate to Pretty On The Inside; if you want a more refined and self-assured, slightly sarcastic but honest record after this listen, go to Celebrity Skin.

FUN FACT: Courtney Love’s late husband Kurt Cobain does backing vocals on ASKING FOR IT.

“ CELEBRITY SKIN ”

Petals... CELEBRITY SKIN of 1998 is about the lost people, the more opulent Los Angeles and Californian culture, about the promises and agonies of Southern California; it was aimed to divulge greatly from the grunge sound of before. It includes Courtney Love on vocals and rhythm guitar, Eric Erlandson on lead guitar, Melissa Auf der Maur on bass, Patty Schemel on drums, produced by Michael Beinhorn.

tracklist. CELEBRITY SKIN, AWFUL, HIT SO HARD, MALIBU, REASONS TO BE BEAUTIFUL, DYING, USE ONCE & DESTROY, NORTHERN STAR, BOYS ON THE RADIO, HEAVEN TONIGHT, PLAYING YOUR SONGS, PETALS.

IF YOU WANT... a rock-fueled pop sound with many lyrics that are references and have layered meanings, a comforting almost listen, listen to this album first.

The band sought to use Los Angeles and the state of California as a unifying theme and began writing what they conceived as a “California album��� in 1997. Unlike Hole's previous releases, the final songs on Celebrity Skin featured instrumental contributions from several musicians outside the band, primarily Billy Corgan, who co-wrote the musical arrangements on five songs. Auf der Maur's former bandmate Jordon Zadorozny, as well as Go-Go's guitarist Charlotte Caffey, also contributed to the composition of one track. Frontwoman Courtney Love, who wrote all of the lyrics, named the album and its title track after a poem she had written that was influenced by T. S. Eliot's The Waste Land. Motifs of water and drowning are also prominent throughout the album, as well as recurring themes of angels, Heaven and stars. [< source, wikipedia.

If you want a tougher, rawer, more journal-entry music than this, migrate to Pretty On The Inside; if you want a grungier yet more depressed version of this album, migrate to Live Through This after.

FUN FACT: Love clarified that she had derived the album name from a short-lived band in Los Angeles named Celebrity Skin, as well as a bootleg pornographic magazine featuring nude candid photos of celebrities.

“ NOBODY’S DAUGHTER ”

Dirty Girls... NOBODY’S DAUGHTER of 2010 is about the time of rehabilitation that Courtney Love went through after a long cocaine addiction and legal troubles following that, written in rehabilitation; about feeling lost, confused. It was supposed to be a solo album of Love’s, but was made to be Hole’s last album after their 2002 dissolution. It includes Courtney Love on vocals and rhythm guitar, Micko Larkin on lead guitar, Shawn Dailey on bass, Stu Fisher on drums, produced by Michael Beinhorn, Micko Larkin, and Linda Perry.

tracklist. NOBODY’S DAUGHTER, SKINNY LITTLE BITCH, HONEY, PACIFIC COAST HIGHWAY, SAMANTHA, SOMEONE ELSE’S BED, FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE, LETTER TO GOD, LOSER DUST, HOW DIRTY GIRLS GET CLEAN, NEVER GO HUNGRY.

I DO NOT RECOMMEND LISTENING TO THIS ALBUM VERY FIRSTLY, but, IF YOU WANT... a polished and the most mainstream-sounding of the four albums, sad, confused, lost record written during rehabilitation, this is your key.

Before the album’s release, former Hole guitarist Eric Erlandson publicly disputed Love’s use of the Hole name, claiming it violated a previous agreement between the two, which Love contested. On its release, Nobody’s Daughter received generally mixed reviews from music critics, with some praising its instrumentation and lyrics, while others criticized it for its folk rock elements as well as production issues and Love’s vocals. Despite this, Love said in 2010 that she considered it the best record she had made. [< source, wikipedia.

If you want a tougher, rawer, more journal-entry music than this, migrate to Pretty On The Inside; if you want a grungier yet more depressed version of this album, migrate to Live Through This after; if you want a similar but more scattered listen, to Celebrity Skin.

FUN FACT: The painting on the cover is of Marie Antoinette and the tracklist page has the edited background of a painting of Anne Boleyn.

MY RECOMMENDED PATHWAYS...

Lastly...

HOLE is a kinderwhore band, which is minutely distinct from riot grrrl. And, Courtney Love has a lot of beef with, to be honest, mostly everyone. So, yeah... For example, Babes In Toyland, a band often mentioned in the same vein as Hole, has their frontwoman, Kat Bjelland, in hatred with Love. I do not recommend looking up to these people as people, but please do try their music.

Die, cry, adore Hole.

FUN FACT: My favourite Hole album is Pretty On The Inside!

Dear Nobody’s Daughter, to Live Through This, you scrape off your Celebrity Skin; you know full well that you’re Pretty On The Inside...

DID YOU GET INTO HOLE?

[sourbites]

Okay this might be a bit of a reach. But maybe a smut with Kirk. Like enemies to lovers kinda thing. Kinda catches you outside a party smoking a joint crying over some average asshole. Maybe a little argument. Sorta kinda like I hate you so much I wanna shut you up in a sensual kinda way. 🥲

Licking Wounds

sorry it took so long to get to this request! also if this piece lowkey sucks, i am sorry in advance. still kind of sick..... BUT ANYWAY! i pictured kirk somewhere around load era where he (arguably) acted the meanest because he's such a sweetheart i can't imagine him ever beefing enough with someone to be actual enemies. so he's just a bit of a dick. enjoy!

The flux of song lyrics and honey-whispered words swim in your head until it feels like you're being held underwater, Poseidon's hostage. Your ears even do that prickly thing like there's fluid trying to creep inside your eardrums. The fire and rage that fuelled you to storm outside has quickly tanked into nothingness. You're just an empty engine rattling around on fumes of what was. Fuck him.

Seriously. Fuck him. Who invites someone for a date and then acts like — like that with the nearest girl?

You find solitude in the quiet amber night, hidden and tucked into shadows outside the side alley of the bar. The brick wall is cool and unyielding against your skull, your head seeking the stability it brings. The picture of him is burned into your memory like you left your TV on pause for too long. His hip bumping hers, her nails dragging down his neck as he leans in to hear her better. You can still hear the speakers playing songs from inside— a song they're probably dancing to, no doubt.

"Party's inside," You turn your head. Kirk's leaning against the brick wall, grinning at you all smugly. Little fucker. The white scleras of his eyes are blindingly bright against the inky blackness of the night. It's a stark contrast to the lightless browns of his irises. You feel like his gaze is tunnelling holes through you. It's lukewarm out — everything simmers with heat from the September day's sweltering sun.

"Exactly why I'm outside." You sass him back. With shaky hands, you fish out a half-crumpled cigarette. It'll have to do. Patting your pockets again, you find nothing but the cherry on top of a foul night. No lighter. Perfect. Sighing, trying not to cry like a baby outside a bar, you swipe a hand over your face. Hopefully, your mascara isn't too smudged. Whatever.

Kirk throws his hands up out of his pockets in mock surrender. You can tell he's mocking you because of that stupid fucking smile on his full lips. Jerk. The streetlights stream down onto him more than you (because you're tucked snugly into the side alley), his skin glistening gold at the edges in the warm light.

Before you can suck in another breath to verbally take out your awful day on to him, he slinks over to you with this casual slyness. He tucks the end of a joint between your lips and lights it for you. "Loosen up, would'ya?"

"Fucking don't," You tell him, leaning against the wall does nothing to stop you from tilting inwards in red-hot embarrassment and shame. You should've known not to go on a date with that jerk. You always told yourself you'd never be the type of broad to weep over some limp-dicked man. God, you wish you could go back in time and handcuff yourself to your radiator before you stepped outside to meet him. Your reason should've butted in sooner— no one likes captain hindsight.

Kirk just laughs off your nasty drunkenness. He tucks his lighter back in his pocket after lighting his own joint (he got the lighter to burn on the first try— twice. Show off). The lonely flame lapped at the shadows of his face, glinted off of his labret piercing. He looks stupid with that fucking spike. Well, he looks ridiculous anyway.

Still smiling like he's some cherub, he glances at you, "Christ, you're good company. No wonder your date's chatting up some other girl."

Usually, you'd be biting his head off for even daring to speak to you like that. But this is the seventh time this has happened. Or maybe eighth? You don't understand what's wrong with him. Or is it you? This was the hundredth time he's glanced away from you. You've tried everything: mimicking the girls that strike him, icing him out, doing everything he likes, anything you can think of to salvage your relationship. But the truth is, he takes his eyes off you so damn easily. And you're done pretending to be blind.

You laugh humourlessly, exhaling smoke into the stagnant night. It lurks and lingers around you for a few moments longer than usual before it just dissipates into nothingness. The joint does little to soothe you. It only seeps into your blood, your flesh. You need this smoke to cradle your bones, to kiss away the neurons that won't stop making you think.

It seems Kirk doesn't like you silent; because he looks down to scuff the soles of his shoes on the rain-saturated asphalt, kicking around discarded cigarette butts and the glass of long-ago smashed beer bottles. "Listen, about Mi—"

"I don't want to talk about him." You grumble.

Honestly, you don't even want to talk to Kirk. You haven't got the foggiest clue as to why he's even here, bothering you like some fly in your ear. He seems more than eager to go back in and enjoy the party.

"Well, what if I do? What're you going to do, go back inside? Be my guest, you'll see him with his tongue down some other skank's throat." He's way too happy to tell you that. Fucking hell, that's a bit harsh. You swallow the ugly dirtiness you feel and push down that despair that sticks to the insides of your mouth like paper. Why is being loved so hard?

"Why are you even here?" You give him the meanest glare you can muster right now. With sticky eyelashes and a queasy stomach, it's probably more similar to a blank stare.

Kirk shrugs, looking down at his shoes. His voice is uncharacteristically soft, maybe raspy from the smoke, as he rumbles out a gently dismissive, "Don't worry about it."

"Oh, so you can get in my business, but I can't get in yours?" You raise an inquisitive brow.

"Uh, yeah, considering I'm not the one blubbering over the same asshole every time I go out. You make your business everyone else's problem, so don't get so surprised when everyone knows that he fucks other girls." Wow. You work your mouth, blinking, stupefied. You see the blurry outlines of your silhouette staring back at you in a dim puddle in the ground.

You push yourself off the wall and turn your back on Kirk. You hear him scoff in disbelief from behind you as you re-enter the bar. The atmosphere inside is thick, suffocating you straight down to hell with sweat, booze, and cheap jasmine perfume. You don't know why you're back inside. It just seemed - at the time - a better alternative than getting an earful from Kirk. Maybe you can convince the bartender to call you a taxi, considering your phone's dead.

You pull yourself up to the polished wooden bar and quickly recoil your hands once you feel how disgustingly sticky it is. You scan for the guy working behind the bar, but all you see is your idiot fucking date doing his usual tricks to get a girl to go home with him. Maybe it's the weed, maybe you're seeing in better picture, but as you watch him smoothing his warm hands down her arms, brushing his lips against the shell of her ear, you don't feel the usual agony. Okay, sure, it's a little embarrassing considering the patrons saw you with him dancing only a mere twenty minutes ago, but they're drunk, and you bet their picture of you is already beginning to fade.

Huh.

The cool outside air takes that weight clean off your shoulders. "Oh, got bored already?" Kirk calls to you once he sees your figure nearing him.

"Something like that." You take a big inhale of your joint (for luck, not courage) and step real close to him. His scent hits you like a brick wall, all boozy and that rigid tobacoo scent. You hear him murmur out a smooth whoa under his breath.

"Why are you still here? Really." You inquire. Without a hint of shyness, you sauntered into his bubble of space like you owned the place. But now you're here, you don't want to be so commanding and kill the intimacy of proximity.

Kirk lays a hand on your side. His body heat seeps through your shirt. "Would you believe me if I said I didn't like the song they're playing?"

"No song runs for, like, twelve minutes." You point out through hushed giggles. You don't feel loopy from the weed. Is Kirk genuinely amusing?

"Dogs," He hums automatically, brushing away the hair from your forehead with the back of his hand. There are a few rings decorating his fingers that bite your skin upon contact.

"...What?"

"Pink Floyd— the song Dogs," Kirk expands, wetting his lower lip with his tongue. His huge, dark eyes drop to your mouth. "That song runs for, I think... fifteen minutes?"

You can't help but genuinely laugh at him. "Fuck, you're a nerd." You sigh, still grinning. "But seriously, why did you follow me out here?"

Kirk's eyes narrow— just a smidge. "What do you want to hear me say? I saw you run out like a fuckin' kid, and I felt it was my duty to comfort you. Don't be such a goddamn princess, alright? Just drop it."

You don't wriggle out from his touch. Nothing seems that serious anymore. You hum thoughtfully, brushing the pad of your thumb against his chin. You wonder if that piercing hurt. If it was planned. If he cried. "You're a dick." You say it so casually - so easily - that it doesn't even hit like an insult.

You're both just standing there, orbiting each other. It's cooler than anticipated outside; the lightbulbs in the streetlamps are long overdue for a change. They buzz overhead. The scenery lacks the colour of daylight or artificial light like the ones inside the bar. Maybe this near-monochromatic world brings more clarity than the exciting hubbub of passionate reds and the flair of a coddling yellow.

"You don't actually like him, do you?" Kirk's voice is ghostly quiet; you barely hear it. You wish it would haunt you. Through the virile streams of muggy grey smoke, you watch Kirk's facial expression. Mostly, you just watch the smoke in front of you, trying to see words or images within the steady flow of dead, grey air.

Albeit petulantly, you shrug your shoulders. "I dunno. Not recently." Your voice is awkward, mumbling around the edges of the joint Kirk gave you.

It's so difficult to get the cage of your mouth open sometimes. You don't want to talk about how bad you feel, how lonely, how upset you get at night. Your tongue sits in your jaw like a rock, like a dying star weighing you down on the gritty floor. Is it a crime to simply want to be adored?

"I watched you," Kirk clears his throat, avoiding your sad eyes. "On the dance floor. You looked good. Happy. You didn't like him then?"

You shake your head, flicking the smouldering end of the joint into a stagnant puddle of rainwater. "I liked dancing. I like being with someone, just not him anymore. I..." You roll the words around in your mouth. You haven't even been brave enough to write this in your diary, and here you are, about to confide in Kirk— the asshole of the century.

"To be honest with you, Kirk, I'm not really surprised anymore. I know he doesn't actually like me. I just... it beats being alone."

"So you'd hang out with any fucker so long as it's company?" He raises his brows at you. One hand is in his pocket.

Without waiting for you to respond, Kirk scoops your hips into his hands and steers you against the chilly brick wall. You should resist. You honestly should. But you're drunk (tipsy, you'd insist to anyone who dared to point out your warm face and slanted gait) and high and hollow and so loudly lonely. He gives you his shoulder to lay your head on; your hands slide under his leather jacket, enveloping them in heat. Not radiator heat or hot bath heat— human heat. The real deal.

His mouth tastes like warm tequila. Toasty, smooth tequila that sinks down your throat almost. Such a peaceful mouth, free of the brambled insults it hurls at you. You're led closer to him, tethered to this rope that is his full pink lips. Kirk's fingertips sink into your ass; it sets your wayward heart roiling with newfound contempt for him, and yet you sigh into his kiss, wanting to consume his every earthy-tequila breath and bandage it around your shuddering skin.

Your whole body rattles with tiny electric pulses that rise like steam to fog up your brain that's too thick to see through. Everything is Kirk. You barely register that a song is flowing out of the bar and into your swirling head. I Wanna Be Adored, but it's being covered by some cool, angsty chick.

Both your faces pull away from the kiss. The spell's not broken, though. The moment, the heat, it all lingers... neither of you want to give it up for a memory just yet. Your mouth tingles with the phantom heat of Kirk's lips against you. With jellified muscles, the back of your skull slowly sinks into the brick wall as best as it can. Kirk's mouth is on you again, on your pulse, trailing quick, flighty kisses around the collar of your shirt.

"You done whining about your boyfriend now?" Kirk mutters, in between pressing his teeth into your shoulder, capturing your skin and tugging down your shirt until the fabric warps. Greedy. Saying anything smart will ruin the magic, so you just dig your nails into the nape of his neck, relishing in the way he pours a groan onto you.

Goosebump-inducingly hot hands slide up your side, planting you in place. You wonder if Kirk can read your thoughts— if he's purposefully coaxing you away from nurturing any rational thought that would butt in with a: 'Whoa there, girlfriend!'

The spiked jewellery of his labret piercing digs into your skin. You hiss. The little fucker laughs at you. How Kirk makes you feel - like you're in some artsy film, where everyone else fizzes into the background, and all your lines are witty - it doesn't mesh well with his blunt personality. You feel like you shouldn't ever pull yourself away from him. He slyly bumps his hips into yours; his hand travels south to your thigh, coaxing it up to hook around his waist.

"I wanna be adooored..."

The singer's distant voice haunts you through layers of brick and mortar. Kirk's tongue laps over a teeth-shaped ring on your neck. You keen into him, your flesh is irritated by him, and yet the only medicine for you is him. He's pressing against you like you press your hands into your eyes to stop yourself from crying. Your palms burn, his mouth feels like the start of forever and simultaneously feels like the final nail in your coffin. Would he listen if you whispered your sorrows to him?

In the corner of your eye, before everything that isn't your spotlight on Kirk fades away, the cheap neon sign lights bleed into the puddles on the pavement.

"You want to make him jealous?" Kirk noses into your ear, skirting his fingertips around your hips restlessly. You know what he's alluding to. Does it always have to be about him? Why can't this just be for you?

Cementing yourself to the moment, you rest your arms on Kirk's shoulders and lock them together, letting his worn-smooth leather jacket meld into your skin. "No. I just want to feel good."

Satisfied, Kirk purrs, "I can do that," into the shell of your ear— before kissing the cartilage and grabbing an eager fistful of your ass.

He looks up at you from his resting place on your shoulder. Enormous brown eyes framed by thick, long eyelashes. Desire rolls around in your belly. You feel tethered to him. Fucking him would be like fucking a concept, a piece of art— though you do want him. Terribly so.

Kirk's stronger than he looks when he gets your legs fully around him, your panties to the side. His hard, aching cock is propped up on the waistband of his jeans that he's had to inch down his hips. The unattractive buzz of neon lights and old streetlamps still lingers around, like a wasteland where made-of-flesh cicadas have been replaced by synthetically monotonous, perverse humming. He uses two of his fingers to coax you open, slicked up with his spit and your own wetness. The heel of his palm pushes into your throbbing clit. You shudder around him.

Once your common sense washes over you, and the smell of Kirk no longer blinds you, you're sure to feel shame that you've taken the world's most annoying man's dick right outside a bar. But right now, all you know is Kirk's thick fingers curling within you so deep, your knees locked around him, and his mouth sucking bruises into your ribs.

The song hits the instrumental bridge. It just rattles in your head. Then Kirk fills out the rest. Between the beats, there's him.

You use all the breath in your chest to power out a muffled moan into his collarbone. Kirk replaced his fingers with his cock— and fuck, is it an upgrade. You didn't realise your eyes were closed in cock-drunkenness until you felt your lashes against your warm cheeks. Kirk presses into you; all the way to the base of his cock, where his happy trail is dirtied by your overeager cunt, smearing the arousal that leaks out of you onto him.

Kirk was never on your lists of goals or dreams or lovers, and here he is, giving you the best fuck of your life. He's got a palm on the wall, cushioning your head, the other securing you around him with his hand cupping your thigh. You know next time you're in the shower, you'll find his fingertipped bruises on the backs of your thighs with your own fingers, and you know all the sweltering heat from tonight will come shooting back to you. All it will take is a touch, a memory. In the words of Virgil: smooth the descent, and easy is the way.

It's a lot of bumping, it's a lot of filthy mouths saying filthy things. Your skin is burning— you cling to him desperately, shoving your nose into his neck until you can almost smell the iron in his blood. His golden skin makes your mouth water— just a hard-edged jawline and glittering jewellery that commands attention like the sun at noon. Other men (like the one in the bar, oblivious to the fantastic night you've having) before Kirk have bumbled and fumbled around your body and searched within you blindfolded, wholly missing the mark when it comes to pleasing you. But Kirk? He's a fucking mind reader. If you think deeper, he's lewdly swinging his hips until they piston into your cervix with so much zeal that you think you're going to faint and tear his skin open with how evilly you're clawing at his arms. If you think slower, you can hear the pornographic squelches of your sopping wet cunt; can feel every single atom of his wonderfully skilled cock reaming you open.

The song's outro swirls in your head. Like a siren's spell, working hand-in-hand with Kirk to keep you hypnotised.

"You adore me... (I wanna).... You adore me.... (I wanna....)"

You don't care. You don't care about anything. When he's inside you, it feels so good it hurts. It chases away any cold-lipped loneliness. It's all just Kirk, Kirk, Kirk. He crushes his mouth onto yours. His spiked labret jewellery rests against your skin, vaguely threatening. No matter those Bambi eyes, he'll never be soft. Never be yours. He's practically lunging his hungry cock within you. There's no doubt in your mind that your tailbone is going to be sore tomorrow— you can already feel the pattern of bruises lined up your skin where Kirk grasped and clutched at you and dug in his blunt nails.

Even though you still feel hollowed out, you feel your organs rattling within you, your eyes unfocused yet still trained on him, stupefied by how impressive his performance is. You arch against him, crying out against his palm. He shushes you, grinning. He's grinding his hips into yours as if he's trying to fucking pave his way within you for his return, so he knows his way around.

"Fuckin' gorgeous," Kirk hisses, groping more bruises into your thigh, sucking at the base of your neck. "Gorgeous girl. Gorgeous pussy." He exhales, his breath fanning across the circles of his spit on your neck.

You take a hand and curl your fingers into his palm, the one plastered on your mouth to silence you. You're not sure why you do it. Maybe you just want to hold a part of him.

"S' funny," Kirk laughs, all velvety-smooth in a way that has your insides fluttering around him. "That fuckin' idiot in there... missing out on you," He groans.

"It's me who makes you moan like this - gets you so wet - me who gets to ruin your pussy for anyone else. You're mine, baby—"

"Kirk," You warn noisily into his hand. Then a moan quickly stumbles out around his palm. He grins smugly against your neck.

You grab onto him for dear life. He's a sight: deliriously hot and cocky as he splits you in two against a brick wall (that's probably scraping up his hand that's acting as your cushion). His ploughing slows into a sloppy glide, subjecting your ears to the embarrassing squelch of your bodies joining together. The stars in your eyes are lit. Kirk needed to see it, even if he's never been one for stargazing. The back of your neck is boiling hot; your hair is sticking to your forehead— most of your skin is dampened by sweat or slick. He's panting into your skin, hips finally stuttering against your pelvis. Brittle cries live and die in the back of your throat. His cock swells and fills you to the brim as you soak him to the bone. Your eyes roll so far back in your head that you almost catch a glimpse of your brain. Frenzied, your cunt pulses around him, your abdomen pulled taut.

You almost slide down the entire length of the wall once Kirk gingerly untangles your limbs. Your muscles ache, jellified, so dazed with that love potion he had you gulping down. You gasp big mouthfuls of air. You can taste the salt of sweaty skin and the muggy city on your tongue. The insides of your thighs are uncomfortably sticky.

Kirk cups your cheeks in his hands and kisses your brow. You've tasted the good and the bad in him— and you want them both.

"You're done griping now, I hope." He murmurs into your temple. What a fucking jerk.

[mrs-monaghan]

Hello Shaz

I would love to hear your opinion on 3D and all the talk around it

My thoughts on the talk around it is; "wow, well this is a load of garbage" (no offence to any friends I may have who don't like the song I just disagree that its a terrible song)

Alright. 3D. Let's talk. My thoughts. First, what's with the fucking homeless trousers??

I hate rich people 😭😭😭😭 if I wear this people will wonder why I didn't go back home to change after I fell in mud 😪

Anyhu, before i even say a thing. We should probably all try to remember that JK said this

(Thanks @chicknbunny13)

Yeah sure, even if he doesn't write a song, he may resonate with it. But not everything he does is a reflection of his actual life. This one, is for the Jikook antis btw. This is why my anons are still off. People, I dont have the energy for antis rn. JK sang 'girl' so what? This topic is super old and tired and consider it officially retired from this blog. I'm sooooo over it 🥱🥱🥱🥱

Now that we have that out of the way let's tackle the fact that our JK is a grown, grown adult. I don't need to bring back the live where he told people he's an adult and he is almost 30 and he will do what he wants to do. And if he wants to sing about this, that's exactly what he will sing about.

Oh my,

Even Jimin knows all about it

Tweet

BAHAHAAHAHAHA!!!

Let is be known i am choosing to take that sentence literally. I think JK just means him, the girl, with champagne and confetti. I really don't think it means anything else here. But, seeing as this is another sex song, I won't put it past him.

Anyone else notice a recurring theme here?

Okay then. 😳

Also shout out to this random kid with the horse

I can't be the only one who has no clue what his point was 😂😂😂

While we are on the champagne topic,

I mean....

Make no mistake, SEVEN and 3D are singing about the same thing. If SEVEN was in your face, 3D is subtle. But they are both just talking about sex here. Which is why it doesn't make sense to me why people are so upset??? As a person who likes Harlow and has heard his songs before, this did not shock me one bit. There is nothing wrong with this song. It is meaningless and shallow but guess what, thats the type of music the GP is listening to rn. I understand why Asians have an issue with this line

And I can respect that. I don't have to understand it, but if Asians say its offensive, then its offensive. In which case I think that's just ignorance on Harlow's part. The people behind the song and JK himself are not going to okay something degrading. So it is of my opinion that people are reading too much, way too much into something that aint even meant to be deep.

It's a song, about sex. The only thing deep about it, is the holes that will be getting penetrated.

This song doesn't require to be analysed. Okay, maybe when trying to decipher the analogies being used but that's it. JK has one agenda and one agenda only; release music that the general public will devour, get his name out there and be a huge pop star. And it is working.

Cue Boracity's new video about each member and who their target audience are for each solo project

JK did not write these songs. If he did I'm sure they would have more meaning. But that's not what he's aiming for rn. Right now the man just wants to put out something that he knows will sell. Wants to put out something that will be a hit. And 3D is exactly that. Just like SEVEN. Mans was asked for the meaning of the song and by his answer, I'm not sure even he knows.

What??

Did anyone understand that???? If you did, break it down for me coz I did NOT understand that 😂😂

This song has no meaning. Its shallow, catchy, easy to remember and move to. Enough with trying to complicate shit! It ain't that deep. Period.

JK cared more about the choreo.

While Jack is calling himself a whore for wanting 4 women, JK is busy dancing throughout. So I will listen to JK and enjoy the song and choreo. Because there is nothing in the lyrics and there was never intended to be.

Idk why y'all mad when we stan a consent king:

Personally I dont have time to be angry because 1) i see no reason to be, and 2) i am too busy admiring JK's body proportions 🤤🤤

Damn, Jimin's man is hot!!!!! 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

[fili-urzudel]

Wildflower Ch. 1 - The Beginning

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.1 k

Dear Reader:

The following events have been amalgamated from multiple sources and translated to a language you can understand to the best of our ability. We can only approximate the exact gestures, actions, and emotions of the characters involved, but hope we have done them justice. Songs have been the most heavily changed to make them more lyrical in your preferred language. However, the sentiment remains the same.

Thank you, and enjoy.

The sun rose earlier than expected, and Kíli thought it made the Shire look rather nice. The rolling green hills and wide dirt paths were no match for Ered Luin’s sharp peaks and impressive bridges, of course, but they were nice all the same. 

“Ye cannae stare at the dew all day,” Dwalin said gruffly, almost running into him as he exited the Hobbit hole, hauling yet another bag of garbage from the Baggins home.

“I know, I was just coming out to help you,” he smiled easily, and Dwalin huffed in reply. 

“Gettin’ the ponies ready is a bit more pertinent.”

“Ah, I see we’ve brought out the advanced vocabulary this morning.”

Dwalin shot him a look that could kill, and if his hands were free, he might have tried.

“Kíli,” a deep voice warned from around the bend.

“I was getting to it!” Kíli exclaimed quickly. “Where’s Fíli, anyway? He’s supposed to be helping me with this.”

“Your brother is writing a letter to his dear wife to let her know he’s safe,” Balin said, already standing by the ponies, loading maps and parchments into his saddlebags. 

“Oh,” he said simply. Normally, he would stick his tongue out or something of the sort, but he was rather concerned about his sister-in-law as well. 

Thorin nodded gratefully in Balin’s direction—he always seemed to know how to get the two of them under control, much better than he could, anyway.

The company was underway just before daybreak, and Kíli found himself squinting against the sun as they left. 

The morning was too quiet. 

“Anyone care to make a bet or two?”

* * *

“Wait! Wait!” The cry came from behind them. One by one, the dwarves reigned in their ponies, turning to see the aforementioned potential burglar running up to them rather comically, waving the contract as he did. “I signed it!”

Kíli smiled broadly—he had won his bets. He had seen a peculiar look in the Hobbit’s eye. That, and Gandalf betted that Bilbo would come to his senses. The young prince figured it would be pure foolishness to bet against a wizard.

Balin glanced at the Hobbit skeptically as he pulled out his reading glass, carefully inspecting the paper.  “Everything appears to be in order; welcome, Master Baggins, to the company of Thorin Oakenshield.”

The company cheered; they had a burglar! Maybe not a very good one, but at any rate, a burglar. After a small fuss concerning the use of ponies as their primary mode of transportation, they were once again on their way, now a company of fourteen.

“Stop! Stop! We have to turn around!” Bilbo’s calls did indeed cause the company to halt.

Kíli could see the look on his uncle’s face without looking at him; he had seen the man exasperated often enough, and he was beginning to feel the same way.

“What on earth is the matter?” Gandalf asked before either of them had the opportunity to.

“I forgot my handkerchief,” Bilbo complained.

“Here!” Bofur called helpfully, tearing off a portion of his rather soiled outer coat. “Use this!’

“Bilbo?” At the call, the entire procession stopped in their laughter, turning to see another Hobbit coming up to their trail.

Kíli immediately noticed something different about the Hobbit, not in her appearance—though, that may have been a factor—no, but rather in the effect she had on him. She was beautiful in a way he had difficulty explaining: her hair long and fastened back with several clips, save for the curls on her forehead; her long, pale green skirt and loose white blouse; her blue eyes that shone in the sunlight.

“Where are you going? Who are these people?” Kíli was jerked out of his reverie by the question, momentarily panicking as though it was he who was expected to answer.

“Who is this?” Thorin grunted, and the Hobbit simply glanced at him curiously before returning her gaze to Bilbo.

Kíli wished her eyes had not simply flicked over him.

“Oh, um, gentlemen, this is May Bramble, my cousin, who happens to live just west of this path we're using,” Bilbo explained, his hand awkwardly fiddling with the reins of his newly acquired pony.

At Gandalf's lightly confused expression, May chuckled. “It's very distant, but, somehow, we're both Tooks. One more than the other.”

The wizard nodded thoughtfully and went back to his pipe.

The dwarves gave each other looks of barely disguised humor—these Hobbits and their family trees!

“A bit far out of town, is it not?” Thorin asked, eyeing the maiden with a kernel of suspicion.

“My great-great-grandfather was one of the more... eccentric Hobbits of his generation,” she answered seriously. “He thought it better to rely more on the land, as our ancestors had, and it has served us well. Now, Bilbo, are you going to answer my question or not?”

Before Bilbo could answer, Gandalf took it upon himself to explain the journey, and its reasoning, despite Thorin's protests—“We do not need everyone in the Shire knowing our business!”

“Oh,” she furrowed her brow seriously. “That sounds... very noble. And exciting.”

Thorin stared at her, hoping that would be the end of it and they could be on their way.

“Would you mind the addition of another to your company?”

“We don't need any dead weight,” Thorin said bluntly. “This is hardly a jolly quest.”

“We could use an extra pair of hands, always,” Kíli argued, and Thorin raised a brow at him. “And I hardly think she's so eager to join this company for gold when no payment has been offered.”

“No, no, I would never assume that I was entitled to any of your gold,” she shook her head quickly. “I'm only joining for the adventure.” She smiled at Kíli, a bright grin that was easily returned.

“And we do have an extra pony,” Fíli pointed out, seeing the look on his brother's face. It was certainly one he had not quite seen before.

“Have both of you gone mad? We cannot—”

“Let her come!” Gandalf interrupted. “I have a wizard's intuition about this one.” He gave a not-so-subtle wink in her direction.

Thorin spared her another glance.

“Fine. But we will not be waiting; we've wasted enough daylight as it is.”

May jumped excitedly, running back to her front door and grabbing a large leather bag before jogging back to the company that had indeed already begun to move on. 

“Here’s a pony, lass,” a red-haired dwarf offered kindly. 

“I’ve always wanted to ride one,” she cheered, quickly moving to ride sidesaddle. 

“Did you just… have a bag of your things ready for a journey like this?” Bilbo asked as she rode alongside him. 

“Did you not?” Her quick response was followed by the brightest laugh Kíli had ever heard. 

He was in trouble.

[dean-a-mean-tae]

Behind The Scenes of Let You Down | Stray Kids Extra Member AU

Join us as we take a closer look at LIAM's first song in his album, Damage. - Achievement Goals

WARNINGS: Nick's Childhood, shitty parents. The interview is in English.

Nicholas Ross Master List | Requested: Yes

Nicholas sits on a stool, playing with the rings on his fingers. He glances off-screen before at the camera.

"Hello, I'm Nicholas. You may know me as Liam," He says, nodding at the camera. "I'm here with Achievement Goals to talk about my song Let You Down from my album Damage."

𝙒𝙝𝙤 𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙙𝙞𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙙𝙨?

"This song specifically is for my younger self," Nick answers as he tilts his head in thought. "It's told from the perspective of my life before training when I lived with my parents."

𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙗𝙚𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙤𝙣𝙜?

"Uh..." Nicholas trailed off as he thought of a proper answer. 

"I'm sure most of you know about some of my childhood," He hummed, wiping his hands on his pants. 

He tilts his head side to side before continuing, "The way my parents raised me made me a people pleaser. I let people walk over me and still work hard to make them happy." 

"So, the song is about me being a pushover and letting people mistreat me," Nick concluded as he slowly nodded.

𝙒𝙝𝙤 𝙬𝙧𝙤𝙩𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙮𝙧𝙞𝙘𝙨?

Nicholas tilted his head as he inhaled deeply. He sighed while he tugged at his earring in thought. It was always the simple questions that pulled the big answers.

"At the time, I was struggling to find the names of my emotions and speak my mind."

"I couldn't just talk about how my childhood made me feel because I was taught that I should be grateful that my parents did their best," Nicholas explained as he subtly massaged the back of his knee. 

He smiled as he continued, "I like to say Chan made the lyrics, but he says he wrote what I said and made it rhyme."

𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙘𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙮𝙧𝙞𝙘𝙨?

"That's a bit of a loaded question," Nicholas breathed, wiping his hands on his pants. He shook his hands as he cracked his neck.

"You know the saying 'Disappointment hurts more than anger,' right?"

"My parents didn't show appreciation for anything me and my sister did. It forced me down this rabbit hole of seeking validation from anyone," Nick explained as he played with his rings.

"My parents were controlling," He chuckled humourlessly. His knees popped as he stretched his legs.

"I couldn't do anything without their permission. If granted, there wasn't a guarantee that they would approve."

"Is that the word?" Nicholas asked. Looking off camera at someone as he whispers, "Approve? I meant my parents wouldn't congratulate- No, that's not it."

"Oh!" He cheers as he claps his hands. Sitting up as he looks into the camera, he continues, "They wouldn't give any recognition."

"Good job," Someone off-camera said.

"Thank you," Nick smiled as his body wiggled happily. He shook his head to wipe the smile off his face.

After calming down, he continued, "My parents only pointed out things they felt were flawed. They never mentioned anything good. Which made me think they didn't notice it.

"It made me feel like I was letting them down."

"Now that I'm older, I think about their actions and how I let them change me. I was a happy child until I let myself mold into who they wanted me to be. It feels like I let myself down."

𝙒𝙝𝙮 𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙣𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙤𝙪𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙖𝙡𝙗𝙪𝙢?

Nicholas hummed. He sighed while he tugged at his earring in thought. This was another loaded question, one he wasn't prepared for.

"Damage is a very vulnerable album..." He trailed off, tilting his head.

 "I'm... sharing my past with the world-" His English began to curl as his accent slipped out. "-so people know they aren't alone in their struggles."

"I didn't know how people would take it," Nick shrugged. "Like I said, this is a vulnerable album."

The brunette twisted his rings in thought. He could get in a lot of trouble for saying this. Women have been saying the same thing repeatedly, with no one listening. Hopefully, he won't get in trouble with JYP.

"Famous people get bashed every day for being vulnerable," Nick started, lifting his ankle to his knee and fixing his sock. He shifted in his chair as he continued,  "If they aren't being reminded about the situation through insults, then it's nosey people constantly bringing it up."

"Everyone says you signed up for this treatment when you become famous, but no one signs up to be bullied for being human." 

"People complain about their favorite YouTuber, their favorite singer, actress, or whoever. They complain about them changing because of the fame," Nicholas huffed as his eyes rolled.

"Most of the time, it isn't the fame that changed, it's the people," He denied.

"Words hurt, and they hold power," He quoted. He dropped his leg and shifted in his chair to let the words sink in.

 He scoffed, "You sit behind your screens. You type these rude comments and say Freedom of speech. I'm allowed to express my opinion. I'm sure someone taught you if you have nothing to say, don't say it." 

"And if they didn't, then you need to think about yourself in the person you're talking about's shoes," Nick lectured, slowly slumping in his chair. 

"You don't know what they're going through, but you still take the time to add to the bullshit going on in life."

𝙎𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙖𝙨𝙠𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙛 𝙑𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙚.

After reading the verse, Nicholas groaned as he threw his head back. Verse 3 talked about the same thing as the other two. 

"All of the verses are about my lack of character as a kid," Nick explained, his eyes trailing the words of his song.

"Each verse starts with someone mistreating me and ends with me giving the person what they want."

"Verse three talks about good times that never happened," He said, looking up at the camera. "I can't remember a time I was happy during my childhood."

Tilting his head, Nick hums in thought. His father wasn't a happy person. The man considered any negative emotion besides anger as a weakness. Nicholas was certain if you looked up toxic masculinity, Nolan would appear. 

His mother, the poor woman, was a little naive. She bent to Nolan's will. Lillian and Nichols learned early that their mother wouldn't save them from their father. He was the man of the house and her heart, while they were just the children.

"My parents were happy," Nick started, as he dropped his leg back to the ground. "I don't know if my sister was happy."

"But I do know that I wasn't," He sighed, twisting his rings around his fingers before wiping his face.

Let You Down Tweets

Nicholas Ross Master List

©️DEANAMEANTAE2024

Tags list: @bada-lee-ily , @jinnie-ret , @hwxnghyynjin , @foxilsdenn , @rensahazard , @mynameisnotlaura , @lucianidealz , @ziipzeepzop-eez , You can be added by asking in the replies, sending me a message, or doing an ask thingy.

[leenaur143]

Happy 27th Birthday to the man who deserves a list of 27 reasons (he actually deserves billions) why I love him so much 💖

1. Chris is the most caring person alive. I don't mean this lightly either because to be as selfless and understanding as him takes more than just effort and time, it takes heart and patience (even though he says he has none - we all know he does, in bucketloads). It's weird when even though you don't know the person, you can see their character shine through so well by how they interact with others.

2. He is so kind to others. Being caring doesn't always equal being kind to people but Channie bridges that gap so well through how even when things go wrong or he isn't happy about something, he respects others enough to not let his emotions dictate his actions. He says he is impulsive but when it comes to serious business, he is calm and collected.

3. "Best father of 7 kids" "Oh yeah, who's mum?" "JYP"

4. Can we take a moment to appreciate how insane of a dancer he is??? Sure he isn't part of danceracha nor does he have a burning passion for dance for his solo stuff but WOW. CHRIS TAKE A BOW. I remember seeing Superbowl live and I have no idea what it was about that performance that made me go CHRISTOPHER CHAN. but it did and I've been reliving that moment for months.

5. His songs are too overpowered. WE NEED MORE CHAN POP PLEASE!!!! People hate on Connected and I hate to admit wayyy too much man but like SLUMP??? LEVANTER??? DRIVE??? RED LIGHTS??? 0325???? BLACK HOLE?????? ETERNITY????????????? The list goes on. Insanity.

6. The audacity of this man to say that his voice doesn't sound good- CHRIS! If I had to list my hobbies, I'm pretty sure 'listening to Railways' is high up that list, just so I can hear his voice.

7. Ummmm Bang Chan rapping??? Underrated.

8. We all know how amazing of a composer and producer he is but the fact that he urges non-3racha members to produce more and more is just so beautiful cause you can really see his influence on them and how they trust him to allow them to shine.

9. Him staring at the members from afar in surreal moments. That's it. That's the thing I love.

10. Bang Chansan speaking/singing in Japanese. When he did that cover of LiSA's Gurenge in SKZ Toy World fanmeet BROOOOOO I ASCENDEDDDD

11. He is so loved. This isn't even like a mild thing either because everyone who has the pleasure of meeting him always waxes poetic about how amazing he is: from people who have met him loads of times like Ryan Reynolds who said Chris is his bias since so so so long, to others who meet him once and fall in love like Chris Hemsworth and Nicholas Galitzine at the Fendi Show, his aura is crazy.

12. He is cute. As much as we all crinkle up into a ball when he acts like he is actually foive, LOWKEY LIKE REALLYYYYY LOWKEY he is adorable.

13. That interview with Young K is my comfort interview fr and I know that isn't a thing but now it is. He is truly the maknae of third gen idols and being a fourth gen leader can make him seem older than he is but he truly did 'give up his youth for his future' 🥹 I'm glad it paid off - It's my favourite lyric cause it hits home so so much but I'm sure to him and the boys, it hits even harder - seeing that circle choreo for that 😭 chills literal chills

14. His smile 🥹 Whenever I'm having a bad day, I have one Channie gif that I always come back to and it turns my day around, no matter how tough it is

15. He is so fashionable! Okay, black clothes only is fine, I'm not a hater or I'd be such a hypocrite but when he is dressed up for events or shoots or even music shows, you see how he inputs his own decisions into what he wears and how he wears it and it always EATSSSSS. Can't wait to see him at the next Fendi fashion show!!! Bring him back Riri!!!!

16. He does need to love himself more but I know that he knows how much we love him. It is insurmountable when you think about how many peoples lives he has changed just by being himself 🥹 Okay I can't think about this too much or I'm going to start crying on the train rn (ha railway joke???) no but fr I will weep.

17. His words. The way he says things to inspire us, I still go back to watch his Channies room episode where he talks about anger management because the advice he gives is really impactful. That could just be me because I know I get the best advice from people I admire so much but that can differ for different people

18. Would it be a Chris post if I didn't talk about how much Chan's room helped me? 🥹 I understand and have made my peace but it was amazing. That's all I'll say on the matter because I know he misses it and he knows how much we do too.

19. His interactions with other idols. Whenever you hear an interview about other groups or idols meeting SKZ, they never fail to mention Channie because of how much of a welcoming and kind person he is, to everyone. Of course as Atiny, I would remember Hongjoong's words the most but to inspire people is a talent and Channie has that skill in the bag. (Also number 19 hehe 19 is such a bangerrrr)

20. His presence is such a comfort. I remember I was on Holiday abroad and that was the day he went live on Instagram, showing us his room and his hat collection and everything, and despite the time difference (hehe what's new?) me and my friends tuned in and it was so so amazing. Should I mention Channies room here again.... 👀🥲🤣

21. He is very dependable. Watching the behind the scenes for this summer's festivals was testament to how reliable he is and how not only the members but the staff and the band members trust him to the extent that he was the main port of call if there were decisions to be made or if something went wrong.

22. He is so so so so so gosh darn handsome and I'm never gonna stop saying it, even after he believes it himself. I hope he knows we legit love him for him and we're not just here for his body or whatever else he jokes about. CHRIS WE LOVE YOUUUUU

23. His dad jokes. Need I say more.

24. His selfies! I don't care how infrequent they are or how he just drops them on us at the most bonkers times (always. literally ALWAYS. You have like a pivotal moment in your life and BAM channie selca drop ding ding ding announcement panic panic jaw is dropped)

25. We all know how insecure he is about his hair but I know that we all love him, his hair and all and I definitely don't think he knows that. I truly hope he doesn't feel any pressure from us to change himself because he literally is perfect just the way he is.

26. Hands. Stop I am so normal about him but his hands... the Jeong Yunho level of feral-ness is SO REAL

27. Our Channie is the best leader we could ever ask for.

[straykidzwifey]

Unexpected Encounters

_______________________________________________

_______________________________________________

Pairing: Bang Chan X OC

Warnings: Mentions of Religion

Summary: An unexpected encounter happens when Zena Allen runs into Felix a member of Stray Kids, her all time favorite Kpop group. He invites her to their concert later that night where she meet Bang Chan. Will there encounter spark a relationship or will she forever be just a fan.

Masterlist

_______________________________________________

Chapter 4: Late Night Meals

______________________________________________

Chan's POV ------------------------------

My eyes followed Zena's graceful exit from the dressing room, a stern security guard accompanying her to ensure her safety. A sense of protectiveness bloomed within me, as if it was my duty to make sure she reached her vehicle unharmed. As she walked away, I turned to Veronica, our manager, and handed her our belongings to load into the sleek, black SUV waiting for us.

The rest of the band members gathered around me, and we made our way to the luxurious vehicle. The leather seats engulfed us in comfort as the car glided smoothly through the bustling city streets. The soft glow of the dim lights created a warm ambiance, but my mind was too occupied with the enchanting moments of the night to fully appreciate it. Memories of the electrifying performance and the crowd's adoration filled my thoughts.

My mind then swirled with thoughts of Zena, her infectious laughter ringing in my ears and the way her eyes sparkled like diamonds when she smiled. I couldn't forget the way her hair bounced as she danced at the concert, lost in the music and pure joy.

As the SUV approached a stoplight, I couldn't shake my thoughts of her. Suddenly, Changbin's voice pierced through my thoughts. "Isn't that Zena?" he exclaimed; his confusion evident. Everyone turned to look out the window, and there she was - a vision in white. Her sleek Kia FORTE pulled up next to us at the stoplight, pulsating with the bass of the loud music she had blaring. Zena's head thrashed back and forth to the rhythm, her passion for music evident in every movement. She sang along to the lyrics at the top of her lungs, completely lost in the moment.

The members burst into uproarious laughter at Zena's playful antics, her contagious energy spreading through the car. I couldn't help but chuckle and smile to myself, admiring her carefree attitude. The traffic light turned green, and both vehicles continued on their way, with Zena still lost in her own world of music.

Shortly after, we arrived at the restaurant and pulled up next to Zena's car. She was in the midst of pulling on a navy blue crewneck sweatshirt as her car door hung open. As she peeked her head through the hole of the sweatshirt, she flashed us a dazzling smile before walking over to join us. "Ready?" she asked eagerly. My heart seemed to flutter at the sight of such a beautiful smile.

She continued to radiate joy and laughter as the other members playfully teased her about putting on a rock concert in her car on the way here. She simply shrugged her shoulders and laughed without a care in the world, reminding me once again of her carefree spirit.

As we stepped into the restaurant, a warm and inviting atmosphere enveloped us. The lady at the front greeted us with genuine enthusiasm, but when her eyes landed on Zena, her smile grew even wider. "Zena! How have you been? It's been too long since I've seen you and the family." Her voice was filled with warmth and familiarity. Zena returned the smile with equal brightness, replying, "I'm doing well! Things have been hectic lately, but I made sure to stop by today." She then inquired about the well-being of the lady's children, showing genuine interest in their lives. They chatted for a bit before Zena jokingly reminded her to let Mike, the manager, know not to overwork her or she'll have to have a serious talk with him. Both women shared a laugh before Zena mentioned our large group.

As we made our way towards our table, it was clear that Zena was familiar with the staff. She greeted each one we passed by name and they all responded warmly in return. The lady led us to our table and handed out menus before leaving us to peruse them. Zena took the seat in the center, surrounded by Felix and Han on either side. I sat across from her and the rest of our group settled around the table accordingly. Our two security guards and Veronica also found their places, completing our party.

Jeongin, still thinking about the earlier interactions between Zena and the staff, spoke up with curiosity evident in his voice, "Is the real reason you wanted to come here because you know everyone?" Zena shook her head calmly, her eyes scanning the menu in front of her as she replied, "No, I happen to know a lot of people at Mi Terra as well. But this place just has better food, and it's a low-key spot where you won't be recognized. Plus, they stay open until 2 A.M. so we don't have to rush."

I couldn't help but be intrigued by her statement. I met her gaze as I picked up my own menu and asked, "How do you know so many people?" Zena calmly lifted her menu off the table and answered, "They are either clients from my dad's company, people from my previous job, family members, childhood friends from my grandparents' church, and friends from my current church."

A hush fell over the table as we all processed the onslaught of information. Zena looked up at us, when she didn't hear anything, and innocently asked, "What?" Felix broke the silence with an exclamation of surprise, "That's quite a lot of people. Dang!"

Zena's laughter was light and musical as she set her menu down gently. Her eyes sparkled with sincerity as she shared her perspective, "San Antonio is like a giant small town. Despite its size, there's a strong sense of community here. It seems like everyone either knows each other or is connected in some way. It can be both a blessing and a curse." I nodded in understanding, suddenly reminded of my own experiences in the tightly-knit world of K-pop.

The words tumbled out of me before I could stop them, "I know exactly what you mean. In the industry, it feels like everyone knows each other or has some kind of connection." She smiled sympathetically, knowing the challenges of being constantly surrounded by familiar faces.

Leaning forward, I rested my elbows on the table and asked, "Does it ever get tiring? Always being recognized wherever you go?" She paused for a moment, contemplating my question before responding with frankness. "Yeah, sometimes it does. It can be overwhelming to never have any real quiet moments in public. But other times, it's nice to feel that sense of belonging."

Felix interjected playfully with a mischievous grin, "Well, tonight we get a break from all that." The rest of our group chuckled along with him in agreement. Tonight, would be a welcome escape from the constant pressure and recognition that came with our fame.

As we continued to peruse the menu, my eyes met Zena's and a faint flush spread across her cheeks. She quickly cleared her throat, breaking our brief but charged connection. "So, what do you plan on ordering?" she asked, changing the subject to our food choices. Yet, my thoughts were consumed by the way her dazzling hazel eyes lit up when they met mine. A surge of boldness coursed through me as I made the decision to take a chance on this moment.

My voice was low and filled with anticipation as I spoke, my eyes twinkling mischievously. "How about we spice things up tonight? Let's order for each other." The other members of our group exchanged amused glances while Zena's eyes widened in surprise.

"Are you serious?" she asked, a mixture of intrigue in her tone. "None of you have allergies or dietary restrictions, right?"

I shook my head confidently, the corners of my mouth curling into an even wider smile. "Nope! Come on! I think it could add an exciting element to our dinner."

Zena chewed on her lower lip, carefully weighing my suggestion. Finally, she gave a nod. "Okay, let's give it a shot. But! Under one condition - everyone must try the sweet tea. It's a tradition down south."

I grinned, delighted by her response. "Deal," I said, extending my hand to seal our agreement. Zena hesitated for a moment before reaching out and shaking it, the warmth of her touch sending a jolt of electricity through me.

The waiter arrived at our table, ready to take our orders. With a mischievous twinkle in my eye, I looked over at Zena and said, "We'll have whatever you recommend for each of us."

The waiter's eyebrows shot up in surprise, clearly intrigued by our request. He nodded with a polite smile and asked if there were any dietary restrictions or allergies to consider. We assured him that we were open to anything and everything.

Zena's eyes sparkled with anticipation as she watched the waiter scribble down our unconventional order. It was exciting to see her embrace the spontaneity and adventure I had suggested. As we waited for our food to arrive, conversation flowed freely among our group.

Amidst the laughter and lively chatter, the air crackled with a newfound energy. Zena's radiant smile seemed to infect us all, filling the restaurant with an atmosphere of joy and camaraderie. It was as if we had stumbled upon a hidden oasis, a place where we could momentarily escape the demands of our fame and simply be ourselves.

Our table was filled with plates of mouthwatering food, each dish handpicked by our waiter, Jose, as Zena later informed me. We embarked on a culinary adventure that surpassed our expectations and delighted our taste buds. As we indulged in every bite, we also shared laughter and stories, reveling not only in the delicious flavors but also the wonderful bond we were creating.

As she finished her conversation with Felix, a mischievous grin spread across her face. "I can't believe my outfit matched y'all's stage attire," she exclaimed, unable to contain her laughter.

A soft chuckle escaped my lips as she turned to me, her brows furrowed in confusion. "What's so funny?" she asked, tilting her head to the side. I couldn't help but smile at her adorable accent as I replied, "I just think it's adorable when you say 'y'all'." A blush rose to her cheeks as she rubbed the back of her neck, the corners of her mouth turning up in a shy smile. "It's a southern thing," she explained, "I don't even realize I do it until I'm around people who aren't from here." The way she spoke was like honey dripping from her lips, a sweet and charming drawl that I could listen to all day. Her accent added to her already irresistible charm and made me fall for her even more.

As the evening wore on and our laughter filled the air, I found myself captivated by Zena's every word and gesture. Each moment spent in her presence felt like a stolen treasure, a precious memory that would forever be etched in my heart.

As the night grew darker, the restaurant began to empty out, leaving only a few lingering customers scattered across the cozy space. With the light sound of mariachis playing in the other room, an atmosphere of peace settled over us.

Zena's gaze met mine, her hazel eyes crinkled in laughter. In that moment, I knew that this connection was more than just chance or shared experiences. It was something deeper, something that transcended our roles as celebrities.

"Let me get this straight, he locked you guys out of the room for two hours just to have some alone time? Wow, you guys must be really loud," she said to Han with a nod towards me. I nodded my head at the memory.

Han chuckled sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. "Yeah, we... uh, got a little carried away." he admitted, his cheeks flushing a deep shade of crimson.

With a light laugh, she changed the subject and directed her question to our group. "So, is this y'all's first time visiting Texas?" Her bright eyes sparkled with curiosity as she waited for a response. I nodded eager to share my thoughts.

"Yup, it's our first time," I replied, excitement lacing my words. "And let me tell you, I now understand why everyone says everything is bigger in Texas. The energy of the audience at the concert tonight was off the charts. It was truly a memorable experience." I couldn't hide the grin spreading across my face as I recalled the night.

"This was actually our last stop on the tour, so we decided to stay in town for an extra week and explore. We've heard so many great things about Texas and we don't want to miss a thing." I stated with enthusiasm.

Her bright hazel eyes sparked with excitement as my words registered in her mind, and it was clear that a new idea had just dawned on her. "Well, why didn't you say something sooner? I could be your tour guide for the week, as a thank you for letting me tag along with y'all today. Luckily, my job allows for a flexible schedule, so it shouldn't be an issue. I'll just have to inform my dad beforehand. Although, I must say that Sunday is the only day I won't be available to show y'all around - I volunteer at my church all day." Her dimpled smile shone like a beacon, radiating warmth and charm as she eagerly rushed out her offer.

We exchanged excited looks within the group, knowing that this was an opportunity we couldn't pass up. The thought of exploring San Antonio with Zena as our guide filled me with anticipation and a sense of adventure.

"That sounds amazing!" Felix exclaimed, his eyes gleaming with enthusiasm. "We've been on tour for so long, and it would be incredible to experience San Antonio through a local's perspective."

Zena's smile widened, and she nodded eagerly. "I promise, you won't be disappointed. San Antonio has so much to offer, from the lively River walk to the breathtaking architecture at La Canterra. I'll make sure to show you everything."

As the evening wound down, we exchanged contact information and made plans to meet the next day to kick off our week-long adventure. The excitement lingered in the air as we said our goodbyes, eager for what laid ahead.

[tg-pilled]

Tokyo Ghoul Characters as MCR songs

This is for shits and giggles, please don't take this too serious. I originally wanted to cover Every album and compare Every song to a character from each album and then realized nobody cares that deeply so here is a brief version!

Kaneki - Famous Last Words - "Can you see my eyes are shining bright? 'Cause I'm out here on the other side of a jet black hotel mirror and I'm so weak. Is it hard understanding, I'm incomplete?"

Haise - AMBULANCE - "And we will wear our masks again, out after dark, 'cause we are up for everything it takes, and we are not the same."

Ginshi - Cancer - "But counting down the days to go, it just ain't living, and I just hope you know that if you say goodbye today, I'd ask you to be true because the hardest part of this is leaving you."

Urie - Sleep - "Don't you breathe for me, undeserving of your sympathy, 'cause there ain't no way I'm sorry for what I did."

Mutsuki - DESTROYA - "With duct-tape scars on my honey, they don't like who you are. You won't like where we'll go, brother, protect me now."

Saiko - The Kids from Yesterday - "All the cameras watch the accidents and stars you hate. They only care if you can bleed. Does the television make you feel the pills you ate or every person that you need to be?"

Arima - The Foundations of Decay - "Let the flesh submit itself to gravity. Let our bodies lay, mark our hearts with shame. Let our blood in vain, you find God in pain. Now if your convictions were a passing phase, may your ashes feed the river in the morning rays. And as the vermin crawls we lay in the foundations of decay."

Hide - The World is Ugly - "These are their hearts, but their hearts don't beat like ours. They burn 'cause they are all afraid. But mine beats twice as hard, 'cause the world is ugly, but you're beautiful to me."

Touka - The Ghost of You - "At the top of my lungs in my arms she dies, she dies. At the end of the world, or the last thing I see, you are never coming home."

Hinami - Cemetary Drive - "If you want, I'll keep on crying. Did you get what you deserve? Is this what you always want me for? I miss you."

Ayato - Thank You for the Venom - "I keep a gun in the book you gave me. Hallelujah, lock and load. Black is the kiss, the touch of the serpent son."

Nishiki - The Jetset Life Is Gonna Kill You - "Gaze into her killing jar, I'd sometimes stare for hours. She even poked the holes so I can breathe."

Eto - Give 'Em Hell Kid - "Some might say we are made from the sharpest things you say. We are young and we don't care. Your dreams and your hopeless hair. We never wanted it to be this way for all our lives."

Naki - The Only Hope for Me is You - "Because you're the only hope for me. And if we can't find where we belong, we'll have to make it on our own."

Takizawa - House of Wolves - "Tell me I'm an angel, take this to my grave. Tell me I'm a bad man, kick me like a stray."

Tsukiyama - Romance - There's no lyrics but the vibe is *chefs kiss*

Uta - I Never Told You What I Do for a Living - "It ain't the money and it sure as hell ain't just for the fame, it's for the bodies I claim and lose. Only go so far 'til you bury them so deep and down we go, down."

Renji - Headfirst for Halos - "And as the fragments of my skull begin to fall, fall on your tongue like pixie dust, just think happy thoughts, and we'll fly home."

Juuzou - Mama - "Well, mother, what the war did to my legs and to my tongue. You should've raised a baby girl, I should've been a better son."

Rize - Our Lady of Sorrows - "We could be perfect lovers one last night, and die like star-crossed lovers when we fight."

Akira - Skylines and Turnstiles - "We walk in single file. We light our rails and punch our time. Ride escalators colder than a cell. The broken city-sky, like butane on my skin, stolen from my eyes."

Amon - Save Yourself, I'll Hold Them Back - "For all of us who've seen the light, salute the dead and lead the fight. Who gives a damn if we lose the war? Let the walls come down, let the engines roar."

Feel free to add your own interpretations but these are songs that I think relate to the characters! :)

[mistressoftheelderitchwhorehouse]

Until I Spill My Guts Part 1

Summary: By day you worked at an English school in Yokohama, and by night you worked as a waitress at a hole in the wall strip club. It wasn’t ideal, and you always worried a student would see you, but it paid the bills. Everything was fine until two young men tripped into the club one day asking you to betray your boss, and turn your world upside down...

Now it's sink or swim as you're dragged deeper into Yokohama's underbelly while falling in love with two of Yokohama's most dangerous men.

Trigger Warnings: Sexual Harrassment, guns

Fandom: Bungo Stray Dogs

Pairing: Dazai x Black! Fem! Reader x Chuuya

A/N: Screwed with the timeline ages a bit. I view them as older than 22 in current Canon, so we're going with that.

-------------‐-‐-----------------------

The club's lights drowned the room in cold blues and firey reds. Music thumped from the speakers in the ceiling and walls, while beautiful women danced on poles and in cages decorated with neon lights.

Callussed and sweaty hands reached for your hips and ass, but you easily side stepped them as you made your way between the crowded tables, a tray full of empty glasses in hand.

You went over to the bar manned by a lanky woman who grinned when she saw you approach. She flipped a towel on her shoulder and leaned against the bar.

"There's the shining star. How's the crowd doing?"

Well," You set the tray down. "You can tell the Nine Gang just got payed, there's a bachelor party with an unfaithful groom, and some how the new boss for the Street Rats is still conscious despite doing eight back to back shots of mystery shots."

"Color me impressed."

You frowned and glanced back at the crowd. It wasn’t even eleven PM, but it was a packed house. It made your skin itch and stomach churn. "I'm gonna take my smoke break."

"I'll let Sato know."

You made your way to the back of the club, and out the door that was labeled "staff only" in faded paint. A chill wind swept through the alley, bringing with it the stench of used condoms and car exhaust.

You looked both ways, before shutting the door behind you and leaning against the brick wall. You snaked a hand in your tiny shorts, and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, and then the lighter out of your bra.

You could still feel the club thumping against your skin, even making out a few of the song lyrics pouring from the speaker. If you tried, you could even hear the announcer telling who the next star dancer was.

Your club, The Sugar Scorpion, was by no means the loudest on the block, nor was it the prettiest, or had the best talent. Honestly, you could argue the club down the block had all of those in spades. Hell, you were even next door to a public sex dungeon.

No, what made this place "attractive" was...

"Oi, what about this place?"You looked up from the dingy concrete, and made out the muscular silhouette of man dressed in salaryman attire, looking at someone behind him. "They even have a foreigner! We'll get a cheap lay too."

"Nah man. That place uses a password. We'd never get in anyway, you were afraid to talk to that one Port Mafia guy asking directions."

"Fuck. Never mind let's go to the usual place."

You cringed at that and dropped your cigarette and killed it with the heel of your boot. When you went back inside you made a beeline for the bar where Yui was mixing a drink.

"If I don't show up tomorrow I was deported."

"Why?"

"Someone saw me here."

"Someone from the school?"

"No idea, but they're not a regular."

Yui shook her head. "I dunno how you live like you do. I'd be an anxious mess."

"Already there."

Yui poured the drink, and passed it off to the wobbling customer, who slurred something to them in a language neither of them understood before leaving.

"Well I have more anxiety to add to your plate." She pointed to a tray loaded with three colorful shots. "Send this over to Boss Man's table."

You felt your stomach drop, but grabbed the tray without complaint. You made your way through the crowd, and down a short set of stairs to the VIP section. Here everything was a little cleaner, the girls all naked, and almost everyone you saw carried a gun.

Sitting in a corner that was filled with men was your boss. He was a tall, muscular man that almost anyone would find handsome if it wasn't for the look in his eyes. The utter poison in the brown depths was enough to make anyone vomit.

He flashed you a toothy smile and gestured to you with a ring encrusted hand. "I even got a foreigner working for me. Hey, come here my little star."

You did as instructed, keeping your smile up as you went to the table, and leaned down to set the drinks in front of yojr boss. You bit your inner cheek when you felt meaty fingers pinch your ass.

"And she’s obviously one, ya know? Like those girls in the hip hop videos. Though, maybe you're too young to remember them."

You stood up properly, letting the comment roll off your back, and took a peek at his guests. Both were young at 18 or 19, maybe 20 if you were being generous, and wore nice clothing. One sported enough bandages you wondered if he should be in the hospital, while the other was just downright pretty with his reddish brown hair.

Strangely, neither had obvious guns on their person.

The bandaged man leaned forward. "And you speak Japanese too?"

"A bit." You pinched your thumb and ring finger close together. "If you speak too fast I get lost."

"Oh, that's great! I suck at English and Chuuya here just never bothered to learn."

"What the hell does that matter Dazai?" The red head-Chuuya, demanded.

You felt your face warm as "Dazai" cupped your cheek. "Yet you only serv drinks. A travesty. I would spend all of the world's treasures to have you spread beneath me."

You'd been propositioned a thousand ways, but never in such a poetic way in the club.

"Alas, it's not my celebration though." He snaked his arm around Chuuya, and shook him a bit, much to the red head's chagrin.

"You were right, Mr. Sakamoto. She'd make an excellent treat for our boss. However, I think Chuuya should try her first-"

"What the hell-!"

"He is turning 19. The poor lad hasn't even managed to hold a girl's hand-"

"Dazai I swear to god-!"

"W-wait, Sir." You cut both bickering men off to address your boss. "I thought we had an agreement. I would just serve drinks, not engage in any... I wouldn't be a whore."

You didn't even know a more polite term for it in Japanese.

"Well that's the thing. That paper you signed said you wouldn't do any whoring, and let's just say you won't be. These young men want your time, and they're not exchanging any goods, money, or services for it."

"But-!"

You flinched as Dazai pressed a long finger over your lips. "There's no point in arguing. It's been decided." He dropped his hand as he stood up. "Down the hall, right?"

Sakamoto grinned and saluted with his drink. "Have fun."

You tried to push Dazai away, but he easily over powered you, and kept an iron grasp on your waist. You opened your mouth, but stopped when you saw Sakamoto putting a hand on his gun. You swallowed all complaints as the red head finally stood up, his hands stuffed in his pockets as he followed you both down a narrow hall.

------------------------------------‐--

You'd never even gone in the "private" rooms. Only a few select girls were able to, and it was an unspoken rule to never ask about the rooms or clients there in.

You now realized that all the money that should have went to cleaning the gum from under the tables, getting another bar tender on staff, and replacing the front window went to these rooms.

The cieling was made of mirrors, and there was a large, plush couch of black leather. A white carpet covered the floors, and there was a fireplace opposite the couch that burned with a gentle faux fire. You weren't sure where the soft lighting was coming from, but as Dazai circled you like a tiger, you wished you could turn them off.

"So he wasn't lying, right? You do know Japanese?"

"I know enough to get by living here for the past year."

He hummed and finally stopped so you were both now face to face. Now that he was closer, you could see that there were a few scabs on this boy's cheeks and forehead. "What can you tell me about your boss?"

What?

Is this a joke?

"Are you with the police?"

Dazai glanced back at Chuuya, who was standing in a corner as far from you as possible. "Hey, Chuuya. Do we look like military lackeys?"

"You look suspicious as hell."

Dazai hummed and shrugged before turning back to you. "Actually, we're part of a different organization that doesn't like the way your boss is running things. Frankly, we're hoping to get rid of him entirely."

"And why do you need me? Actually, why are you telling me?"

"He's had quite a few meetings with some rather unsavory types. We don't need those sort of weeds popping up in this red light district, and that's where you come in." He gestured to you. "With your English skills, pretty face, and nice ass I'm sure you can listen out for us."

"You want me to risk my job and neck to play spy for two kids I don't know?"

"We're not kids." Chuuya said. "And I wouldn't think a foreigner just pawned off to sleep with me would get all skittish 'bout this."

"I-.."

If you could you would sell out Sakamoto in a heart beat. Whether to the police, the soap land across the street, or even the shadowy Armed Detective Agency. You would do anything you needed to if it meant getting back at Kenta Sakamoto for what he'd done...

But...

"I can't. " Your words were low. "If that's why you're not using my body now then I'm sorry to dissapoint."

Shaking fingers reached up to the bow keeping your top up, but a large hand grabbed them and kept them in a tight grip.

You looked up from the blue cloth, and found the red head standing in front of you now, his hand over your own. Dazai was sprawled out on the couch, you're not sure how he got there.

"Ya don't gotta do that," He mumbled. "Not right making you put out when he gets something."

You stared down at this Chuuya and the now recovering Dazai. They were young, and a bit childish, but as Chuuya backed up and stuffed his hands in his pockets and Dazai stood up once more, you could see something in their eyes. It was dark and calculated, a cold knife that could tear apart anyone who so much as pretended to be a threat.

You twisted your hands. "Thank you... For the decency."

"Don't worry about it."

Dazai tilted his head. "So what do you say sweet Belladonna? Willing to risk your life and Visa for some petty revenge?"

You nibbled at your bottom lip as Dazai extended a hand. "And what's in it for me?"

"Let's just say you'll have earned yourself a favor."

"From two boys off the street?"

"No." Dazai's smile became cold. "From the Port Mafia."

[gw-arena]

WEBCOMIC WAR OF WOE: NIGHT 1 AND DAY 2

We continue with Catwhisker turning into her superform? Except...what is her superform? Is it her in her Family of Intelligent Life outfit or is it her with that QUIRKY HAIRRRR?

And we also see Tina destroy Gregory's guitar and sheets of paper containing song lyrics. Knowing Tina she probably thinks Gregory's music is DEVIL MUSIC.

Peter gets some medical stuff from his mom, Sarah thinks about winning, as she does. Kriti has a moment of existential crisis and Incognito Vixen hates homophobes. I don't care if she hates homophobes, I don't like her anal masturbation.

And it is pretty embarrassing a fucking Lucario got beaten up by a fox with a hatchet. Then again, I don't think Olly had any actual Lucario powers.

Ew. I did not need the mental image of Zack and Nurse Rapist together in their little shack fucking eachother. Mora is too angry to sleep, Giancarlo receives a hatchet as a consolation gift after his comic ended and Austin hosts a party with Scooter, Emulie and Worst Person Ever. Oh wow, I feel bad for Emulie, being in a party with three perverts. Then again, she might enjoy it considering how she likes to be "played with", and I guess Spinny is watching them from a distance.

You know at least Zack and Nurse Rapist are together, what the fuck is Gene and Bowser Jr's excuse for not doing anything with their loved ones?

Speaking of loved ones, Flora ends up killing Alejandra by accident, unfortunately. But at least Chelsea is still alive to kick ass and take names.

And speaking of further Loved Ones, Persephoni has sex with a bodysnatching God. Old habits die hard for the ol' purple eyes. Considering they are both invisible spirit beings with shapeshifting abilities, I guess Persephoni ticked all the boxes for him. Oh my god.

Kathy feels like the type of girl to fend people away from her fire, but THOSE THREE? Or maybe she did the I AM A FUCKING HUNGRY HYENA thing and all three of them got scared. I can buy it.

Trace got a rash after killing Seth, Kevin is a treehugger and Mary has nightmares about those two criminals she shot. GOOD. But that's not important, what is important is that Lexx killed Daisy. I guess Lexx spent more than 1 minute with her and immediately went into "hm...kill" mode.

And Blackbird got some water from Abe. Probably because Abe wants B.B. to drown Duran in it.

And the saddest death of them all, Matt dies. I guess Catwhisker turning into her superform was SO POWERFUL Matt turned into a crisp again and faded away. Godfuckingdamn it Catpiss

Onto Day 2

While Blackbird travels to "higher ground" because she likes Alan Parsons Project, Tina fucking murders Duran by spitting on his fish with her killer hyena spit. I guess she killed him for being black rather than being a werewolf.

And Digit chases after Persephoni. I imagine she turned into her bunny form and Digit got excited. I guess Persephoni is embarrassed after having sex with Karastropov last night.

Speaking of embarrassing things, Zack discovers a river. He will probably stick his dick in there in hopes of getting some hot water spirit girl to spring out. Sadly I did not add an event where a character dies when a fish bites their dick.

We have two murders. Trace kills Incognito Vixen because at this point Trace must just fucking hate invisible animals and Deegan kills Scooter with...uh, Pepe the Fire Ant merchandise? Remember when Deegan turned into He-Man parody? Maybe he turns into Pepe the Fire Ant and loads Scooter full of holes with his two guns. That'd be oddly insensitive for Deegan.

In other news, Lexx replicates the spear Chel used to kill Trasik, not even Once-In-Arc Bear wants anything to do with Kevin, Gregory gets some cooking from Pam and Luna has been doing nothing but thinking about home. That's what happens when your hubby's too busy going insane and killing cartoonists

Eric the vitriolic slaveowner sets up a bomb to kill all the people who are in happy relationships, Catwhisker stalks Peter for...soooome reason, VeERGHmon continues to be a passive dick and Mary is killed by Flora's trap. What kind of a trap can she even do? Is Flora just killing human women because Trace is killing all the animals???

Olly, Alejandra, Daisy, Matt, Duran, Vixen, Scooter, Bowser Jr, Kriti, Sarah and Mary are all gone. Team Warmage is the first faction to be completely wiped out and Team Kit n Kay, Team Spinnerette, Team Werewolves, Team Roommates and Team Others are left down to one member. Meanwhile Team TwoKinds is the only faction where all three members are still alive and they have gathered quite a hefty record of deaths. Will they continue to dominate or will the remaining heroes spring back up?

[inkwell-and-dagger]

okay I know I've just loaded minecraft and I've been intending to play it but instead I'm gonna compile all the songs that remind me of ruaridh and the specific lyrics with it too

starting off with one I've played like five times just today:

What's more wrong; that I too wish to be great

Or my mother wished she'd had a son?*

---

My whole life, you were a teacher and friend to me

Please know my actions are not motivated only by envy

---

And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't wishing

For untimely death or demise

---

I, too, have a destiny

*this lyric makes me want to scream. I really have to figure out a design for ru's long lost parents.......

next one yippee!!

I need you to see me for what I have become

---

I'm a winged insect, you're a funeral pyre

Come now, bite through these wires

I'm a waking hell and the gods grow tired

---

Grow back your sharpest teeth, you know my desire

---

No amount of self-sought fury

Will bring back the glory of innocence

---

And I don't know what's got its teeth in me

But I'm about to bite back in anger

I know brutus and tmbte are two VERY different songs but ruaridh is a very complex blorbo

OKAY THE ONLY SPECIFIC LYRIC IS "Miss my corner of sunlight" BUT TRUST ME THE WHOLE THING IS GOOD

They say my hunger's a problem

They tell me to curb my appetite

They say I can't keep myself from trying

A bite of every plate in sight

---

Why would I desecrate a carcass?

Oh, why let the offal go to waste?

---

I'll rip in hands and teeth and take a bite!

---

So grab a plate, have a taste

这口味让我陶醉 (rough translation: the taste intoxicates me)

I'm still preying on a butcher's vein

okay this one is more of that au ruaridh (buzz cut ru) but still

And I'm just so tired, 'cause each day takes aim

At all that it knows me to have, and expands on its list of demands

---

Can my present last if I have no past?

Nothing's clear when I look back, it's just black

But I've seen these clouds before

---

So why can't I recall?

How did I find my way home last time?

---

I'm scared out of my mind, stuck inside a hole

And this is just the first of many, first of many, first of many

---

I'm grasping at liquid minutes, I feel like I'll never be satisfied

quick note but @toyybox a lyric that makes me think of spiderwebs from russian doll is "if you shot me tonight, would it kill me? / would I find the time to die in your gaze?" >:3

hmm that's really all I can think of for now!

UARAD Taglist: @creppersfunpalooza @toyybox @whumpy-wyrms @vidawhump

[deepdreamnights]

Welcome to Radio UltraMerica, Saint Christmas VI on the mic, broadcasting perpendicularly across all three-and-a-half dimensional realities. Hailing from that one universe off the I-53, Dere Zithar and the Repeat Pulses bring us 'You're Drowing Alone, Don't Trip on a Load of Coffee' a title that coincidentally sounds like English, but which means 'I love you and thus you will feed our larvae' in the native vorturan.

This special request goes out from Kozu to Dave. How romantic! I'd jump in the larva hole, Dave, Kozu sounds like a keeper to me.

--

Every Sunday for the foreseeable I'll be releasing songs from other worlds and dimensions plucked from the Radio UltraMerica airwaves by myself in continued defiance of conceptual law.

Explanation under the fold, the full catalog is here.

Prompt: 1977 vintage electronic techno, pioneering music, Minimoog, Clavinet, Oberheim, Wurlitzer electric piano, Mellotron

Lyrics:

----|----------------- -------------------- ----|/----------------------------- ---/|--------------------------------- --/-|---------------------------- -|--|--------------------------- |_|| _|_/ ;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;; ;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ;

,;;;;; ,;;;;; ;;;;;; ;;;;;; ;;;;';;;;' ; ;; ;';. ; ;; ; ;; ; ;; ; ;; ; ;' ; '

,;;;,; ;;;;;; `;;;;'

[fast] [fast] [fast] [break] [Pre-Chorus] [Short Instrumental Intro] ��_(ツ)_/¯

- --- ˜ ~ ° –-¯· ‘ ’` ¬

- --- ˜ ~ ° –-¯· ¶ ‡ ¤ ¯_(ツ)/¯ ¯_(ツ)/¯

- --- ˜ ~ ° –-¯· ‘ ’` ¬

- _--- ˜ ~ °

- --- ˜ ~ ° ¯_(ツ)/¯ ¯_(ツ)_/¯

- --- ˜ ~ ° –-¯· ‘ ’` ¬ [build] [build] [build] [build] You are drowning alone don't trip on a load of coffee of coffee [drop]

- --- ˜ ~ ° –-¯· ‘ ’` ¬

- --- ˜ ~ ° –-¯· ¶ ‡ ¤ ¯_(ツ)/¯ ¯_(ツ)/¯

- --- ˜ ~ ° –-¯· ‘ ’` ¬

- --- - - --- - -’` ¬ [Syncopated Bass] [bass Interlude] [build] [hook] [solo] [electric guitar] [keyboard]

- --- ˜ ~ ° –-¯· ‘ ’` ¬

- --- ˜ ~ ° –-¯· ¶ ‡ ¤ ¯_(ツ)_/¯ [slow] [SAXOPHONE] ⋆ ˚｡⋆˚⸜(♡ ॑ᗜ ॑♡)⸝ ˚⋆｡˚ ⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆˚⸜(♡ ॑ᗜ ॑♡)⸝ ˚⋆｡˚ ⋆ ;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;; ;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ,;;;;; ,;;;;; ;;;;;; ;;;;;; ;;;;';;;;' ; ;; ;';. ; ;; ; ;; ; ;; ; ;; ; ;' ; ' ,;;;,; ;;;;;;